


your jesus forgot me (when he saved your soul)

by commandmetobewell



Series: Service & Sacrifice [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Capital Punishment, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Justice, Murder, Treason, Violence, aka clarke the angry potato is disappointed in the sky people for killing indra's army, also this is another 4am fic so someone shoot me in the face because i don't understand sleep, and emo sad hearteyes commander bean is tired of constantly losing her people to war, but it's got a semi-decent happy ending i guess, do not worry it works itself out in the end, idk really what this is, or word count apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandmetobewell/pseuds/commandmetobewell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hakeldama," Lexa breathes the word out to the frigid air as she finally dismounts her horse. Her voice is quiet, mournful, and you're not sure you've never felt anything so cold and painful before. You both stare at the massacred warriors with wide eyes and empty lungs. The Commander grits her teeth and shakes her head.</p><p>"What does it mean?" You ask, almost afraid of the answer. </p><p>Lexa closes her eyes before quietly whispering, "field of blood."</p><p>or </p><p>Clarke demands justice and Lexa can't afford another war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your jesus forgot me (when he saved your soul)

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE/TORTURE, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, AND MILD GORE.
> 
> Yes it's me your pal, your chump, your lukewarm and oh-so crispy tater tot back again with another 4am piece of death and feelings dump because I obviously am a stupid little shit that has no idea how to function in society because The 100 has ruined my life and I am 1050% Clexa trash (mostly Lexa, though). I don't really know what else to tell you other than I lost track of how long this was or how late I stayed up writing this (again).
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments if you want to leave one, mostly because I think this is 90% Clexa angst/word vomit and am not entirely sure if it panned out as smoothly or as coherently as I thought it to be (again, it's 5:31am so idk). But I think that for what it's worth, I quite enjoyed the latter half and don't mind the other stuff, I suppose. I don't even know if anything I am saying is making sense or not my brain is on fire, I am dying.
> 
> The story title/content is from the song "Who Will Love Me" by Jerome Holloway.

 

* * *

_scary woman don't look at me_

_you let me down, please let me be_

_your Jesus forgot me_

_(when he saved your soul)_

* * *

  

The clouds are grey. Mournful.

" _Em sei wamplei_ ," Lexa murmurs as you glance upwards at the steam coming from the mountainside. As you nod your head over to the stiffened back of the Commander, you realize that this is a sign, an omen if you could say it. A gulp forces its way through your throat as you both ride towards the field. Lexa picks up the pace, her jaw clenching and working to ward off the spurring apprehension that you can feel, too. It doesn't take long to reach the summit. As soon as the two of you reach the peak, a silence fills the frigid air between the two of you. A few warriors are mumbling in disbelief.

Three hundred warriors lay in front of you.

Slaughtered.

"Heda," a soft voice speaks up, and you watch as Lexa's shocked expression falls to one of the younger scouts. He shifts his weight from toe to toe as he glances from the two of you and then to the field of dead warriors. He communicates the words that you know Lexa's already pieced together.

"Gather the survivors," she orders, but her tone is not demanding. You swear you can almost hear the crack in her voice as she looks back to the field. It's so damned quiet, and you shiver when it sets in that you're looking at a cemetery before you. Again, you think back to the Mountain and realize that this would've been her people had she not retreated. When you accidentally started a war, you burnt three hundred of her warriors alive. You knew that she cared for them, that she had felt something for their lost lives, but the act was justified and you both knew it. 

But this?

This is murder.

"Heda," the scout speaks again, trying to hold back tears. "There are none."

The words pass through your bones like the sharp end of a sword. You are amazed that you've not fallen off your horse in the process, because you look out into the sea of corpses and you try to process that there are three hundred dead bodies laying there. Three hundred people whom Lexa had sent to protect your people are now dead. You try to understand who could've done this. Instantly, your thoughts fly to the Ice Nation. But then you know it couldn't have been possible. Lexa's scouts hadn't relayed any information on the whereabouts of Nia's army. Besides, the Queen had been with you in Polis.

You know there's only one other option.

"Indra?" Lexa's grating voice breaks you from thought. Your stomach plummets. You hadn't even thought about Indra.

 _Please_ , you pray as you glance at Lexa's pleading but grief-stricken expression, _please don't let her have been killed, too._

"She is arriving from TonDC tonight," the scout says. You can see the breath of relief that exits Lexa's parted mouth. There's still a hardened mourning in her eyes, but she manages to repress her fears for the sake of her foot soldiers. With a sharp bark of orders in _Trigedasleng_ , she commands them to start gathering the bodies so they may release their spirits. She says nothing and stays atop her horse until everyone is gone except for the two of you.

"Lexa…," you trail off on her name, unsure of what to say. The Commander clenches her jaw, swallowing down the pain.

" _Hakeldama_ ," Lexa breathes the word out to the frigid air as she finally dismounts her horse. Her voice is quiet, mournful, and you're not sure you've never felt anything so cold and painful before. You both stare at the massacred warriors with wide eyes and empty lungs. The Commander grits her teeth and shakes her head.

"What does it mean?" You ask, almost afraid of the answer.

Lexa closes her eyes before quietly whispering, " _field of blood_."

You don't speak after that. Mostly, it's because there are no words to explain this. Lexa takes her time to descend the hill and you watch with wide eyes as she walks between her fallen warriors. Her injured hand clenches and unclenches, and she doesn't have to say it for you deduce she's blaming herself. Your heartstrings snap at the thought of her nearly dying two days ago, all so she could save your people. And now, her reward is present in the form of three hundred slain people that she'd sent as a peace-keeping force to avoid anymore of _your_ people dying.

 _Our people,_ she'd once said, but it doesn't seem much like _ours_ right now.

"Clarke!" A shout comes from far away, causing you to snap your head up in alarm. Lexa follows your gaze, watching as Octavia scrambles through the bodies and towards you. A look of sheer grief passes over her face as she eyes Lexa, an expression that is darkened with guilt. That's when you figure it out. You gaze back over to Lexa, who's eyes are wide as if she were begging for it not to be true, that all of her hard work and sacrifice wasn't for shit.

"O, what happened?" You ask as you turn back around to watch her gulp, on the verge of tears as she parts her mouth.

"Pike."

The one word makes the world around you come crashing down. Two days ago you'd been rejoicing over the death of the Queen and Lexa's victory in solidifying your people's spot as the thirteenth clan. And now? Now, you look to the heartbroken and seething Commander to see that you've thrown it all in her face. Lexa growls something under her breath, but you don't miss the sheen of tears that prickle at her eyes. You expect her to lash out and threaten you, the safety of your people after this betrayal, but she doesn't speak. Instead, she turns around and walks towards more of the bodies in silence.

"Bellamy was the reason why he got power," Octavia explains in a harsh growl, causing your attention to snap back to her. Your brows raise and your gut flips. Bellamy is like a brother to you. Of all the people to have made a decision like this, how could it've been him? You open your mouth to speak but Octavia shakes her head and slides her sword into its sheath on her back. Her eyes grow cloudy with guilty tears as she swallows down the rage.

"Indra would've been here if Lincoln hadn't warned her about the coup," she says softly, looking back over your shoulder to where Lexa is still maneuvering through the bodies with her back slightly hunched and her fists clenched. "She said that she would go to TonDC to relay the message to you."

"But we were already on the move," you finish with a thick voice. Octavia only nods slightly, closing her eyes as she takes it all in.

"Where are they now?" You ask, trying to keep the fury from coating your words. Octavia points behind her in the direction of Arkadia.

"Throwing a fucking celebratory party," she snarls with a shake of her head. "Those fuckers are sick, Clarke. I couldn't do it anymore."

"You left?" You ask, cocking your head in confusion. As much as Octavia thinks herself as a Grounder, you know that she's always loyal to her brother first. But then, when she looks up and you see the sheer pain in her eyes, you know that the trust they'd once shared is now broken, cleaved in two.

"Lincoln refuses to come with me," she says as she hangs her head and sucks in a deep breath, "he thinks he can keep the peace."

"There is no peace," you murmur as you turn back to see Lexa pausing before a group of bodies, "not anymore."

Octavia is about to reply, but then the both of you watch as Lexa's legs give out and she collapses to her knees on the ground in a quiet thud. Her back slouches like the very ounce of life inside her has disappeared entirely. Your heart aches and you go to rush over to her side when Octavia's hand catches your arm and reels you back. You're close to snapping at her, but she nods her head back to mournfully glance at the fallen Commander. Lexa's jaw is tight and her eyes are glassy. A few of her warriors are standing at a distance, glancing between themselves nervously at the sight of her on her knees.

You wrangle yourself out of Octavia's grasp and pad over to her, ignoring the disapproving glares from some of the scouts. Lexa's back remains to you, and you're fully aware that she knows you're approaching, but she doesn't speak. You finally come within a few paces when you hear the slightest whimper escape her lips. The noise makes you halt in your steps and watch the most heartbreaking scene unfold before your glazed eyes.

" _Biyo moba_ ," Lexa whispers as her hand reaches out and touches the dead woman's cheek. You can see the glassy greens of her eyes, open and dead, staring into the sky with not an ounce of life to them. Lexa's chest heaves up and down once before she hangs her head, murmuring something soft under her breath. Her hand remains on the body, and you can make out the trembling in her fingers as she ghosts her palm up to the dead woman's eyes.

" _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ," she shakily breathes out the words before her fingers close those lids, " _ai nomon._ "

You want to be sick.

"Lexa," you say her name gently, not wanting to startle her. The Commander's back tenses and her teeth grit in rage.

"Not now  _Clarke_ ," she spits your name, but not out of hatred. There's a multitude of hurt and grief layering her tone, and you know that she needs space first and foremost. You want to stay, to provide her some comfort, but she's already standing and placing that familiar mask over her eyes. You remember with an aching heart that she is a Commander first, and Lexa second. Her warriors are still watching and she cannot afford to look weak.

Not even when she just said goodbye to her mother for the last time.

"I said," she growls between clenched teeth, " _not now_."

You've seen her mad, yes, but not this. No, Lexa is _livid_. You gulp and nod, understanding that maybe Octavia had been right. You flash back to when Lexa had told you the same thing your mother once said six months ago before you fell from the sky. _You're driven to fix everything, but you can't fix this._

No, you can't fix this.

Lexa pushes past you, blinking down the tears that were present in her eyes for a millisecond before she goes to find her warriors. You look down to the dead woman, your heart jumping up into your throat when you see the striking resemblance between Lexa and her mother. You kneel down and take a closer look, at the familiar brown curls and defined jaw line. You wouldn't have had to have heard Lexa calling using her title to know that she was the Commander's mother. You know very well of her past encounters with loved ones, and you can only curse yourself further for being, yet again, the cause of the death of another one of the people she cares about. First it'd been Anya, and then Gustus, and now, _now_ you've killed her mother.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper to the corpse, feeling tears burn at your eyes as you hang your head. "I never asked for this."

"Clarke," Octavia's voice breaks you from mourning a woman you never knew. You blink away your tears and stand, brushing your hand over your cheek to clear away the stains. Octavia glances down at the dead woman before searching out Lexa from across the field. You both watch as she helps her scouts gather their passed warriors into piles. She knows just as well as you do that there's probably not enough time to cut down wood for each individual person's pyre. You clench your teeth at the notion that just three months ago, Finn had killed eighteen other innocent people.

"How are they going to defend this?" Octavia asks you, her voice trailing off into the tense silence. "How can we avoid war this time?"

"She killed the Ice Queen," you say instead, deflecting your friend's question. Octavia's brows perk up, but you grit your teeth and continue to say, "her ambassadors turned on her because she accepted _Skaïkru_ as the thirteen clan. She would've been dethroned and killed if I hadn't voted against their coup. If she'd lost the fight against Roan, we would've been facing another war. I… I was stupid enough to try and assassinate the Queen. I was stupid and Lexa came in and fixed everything. She sacrificed her life so that our people would be safe, O. She has always put her people first. We _were_ her people."

"Were?" Octavia gulps nervously, casting another glance to Lexa. "You think she'd turn against us?"

"Pike killed three hundred innocent people," you say with a flat tone, "what do you think? _Jus drein jus daun_."

"Blood must have blood," Octavia echoes sadly, shaking her head in disbelief. "Will it ever end?"

You don't answer her question.

_(Please, just let it end.)_

 

* * *

_who will love me in the winter_

_who will love me when it's cold_

_my coat is tiny, but my sleeves are trash_

_and it's too cold outside to cry_

* * *

 

"I will speak to the leaders of _Skaïkru_ ," you say to Clarke as you walk up to her. Your scouts are putting the wood in with the bodies now, but it will still be some time until the work is ready and the pyres can be lit. Clarke jumps at the sound of your voice, her eyes desperately searching yours for a sign of recovery. You offer her nothing, you choose strength over weakness as you cross your arms behind your back. Clarke only nods and tenses.

"I understand," she says with a weak grunt, "justice must be paid."

Your heart aches at what she's trying to say.

"Clarke," you say, softening your voice slightly. The _Skaïkru_ ambassador looks confused at your sudden change in tone, but you simple lower your gaze tiredly. The grief is there, clawing at the back of your throat. You'd found your father and brother a few paces from where your mother had fallen, slain. They were nearly unrecognizable under all that blood, but you'd know their faces even if they were fully covered in it. The air around you reeks of death and loss, but you cannot allow yourself to be hung up. Not while you still have thirteen clans relying on you to forge a peace between them.

"Lexa," Clarke says your name quietly, sadly, like she is trying to console you. But you don't need her pity.

You are the Commander. Grief is not a liberty you are allowed to have.

"Are you coming with me?" You ask, nodding your head towards the horses your scouts are bringing over. Clarke pulls her bottom lip into her mouth before she nods and follows you. There are infinite thoughts running through your head, coupled with the dull throb of pain that burbles in your chest. You ride towards Arkadia in silence. Clarke looks stricken, but you can see that she knows what her people have done will result in a consequence she may not be able to accept, but must be able to dish out. Your chest constricts because of all the things you wanted for Clarke, this was not one of them.

"I have walked through fire to ensure your entrance into the coalition," you say, breaking the silence. Your intent is to not guilt Clarke further, but to inform her of the impact of this slaughter. She nods pensively, still chewing on her lip. You clear your throat and stare up at the metal city coming into sight. "I vowed to protect you and your people, but this… this is…"

"An act of war," Clarke says without any spite. You would smile but you can't, not while she looks so frustrated. She's growing everyday.

You see her becoming a brilliant leader in the future, perhaps greater than you.

"I will hear your people out," you tell her calmly, "but there's only so much I can do, Clarke. These people… they were…"

Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters.

 _Family_.

There's that grief again, that familiar sadness that has grown to become a part of you like some infected disease. Your voice chokes up and you trail off, unable to finish your statement as you swallow to conceal your feelings. Clarke only nods again, glancing over at you solemnly to let you know that she understands. But you know that she couldn't possibly understand. You'd sent three hundred men and women, your family among them, to protect a clan that had been under hostile strife with you since their first appearance. You'd sent three hundred warriors, Tristan, and Anya to deal with the hundred when they'd first landed and you'd lost them. Your mentor died because _you_ sent her to her death. You killed Gustus for these people, and now, you killed your mother, father, and brother. A family that you'd been torn away from as a child so you may become the Commander that allows them peace.

You remember how when you'd first become Commander, you'd ordered Indra to relocate your family so they'd be safe. After Costia's death, you knew that any emotional ties could lead to losses. You shut them out to protect them, even when they came to you in Polis to argue your decisions. You remember how you'd held back your urge to run to your mother's arms and sob over your lost love, a love that had been taken because of you, and instead hardened your expression and told her that your word was final. You remember how she'd cried in front of you and how it'd broken your heart. You remember how you'd sobbed into your empty bed when they'd left that night, with the last words of your father telling you that you weren't the same _Leksa_ they once raised.

And they were right. You failed them.

You wonder if they're just as disappointed and angry with you as you are.

"Grounders on the perimeter!" A loud shout comes from one of Arkadia's watchtowers, drawing you away from your painful memories. In the evening sky, two giant spotlights set on your horses. Clarke holds her hand up and calls out that she's Abby's daughter and that you're the Commander.

The Commander of what? Death?

Clarke doesn't deserve the title as much as you do. She killed nearly four hundred people to save her own, but you, no you killed your own people to save _no one_. The people in TonDC were your people more than they were Clarke's own. The people inside the Mountain, the ones that had been there since before even you had taken command, they were your people too. Whenever you sent scouts or armies to fight, their losses were on you. Clarke asked you yesterday at breakfast why you didn't have kill scars, but you didn't have the courage to tell her that your back doesn't have enough space for them.

You force yourself back into your Commander façade as the metal doors grind open. You descend your horse with Clarke as the two of you march up to the gate, your scouts at your sides. The man that had stormed your summit, Pike, is there with a small group of people. You frown when you don't see Kane or Abby in the approaching group. Your hand immediately goes to cover your sword but the man grins and shakes his head, pulling his gun from his holster.

"Not so fast, Grounder. You aren't gonna touch that thing or else I'll put a bullet in your head," he says with a slick grin that makes your stomach twist. The bloodthirsty, revenge-driven woman inside you pleads for his end, so that you can avenge all those who'd been lost at the end of his bullets. Clarke looks just as furious as she steps forward, pointing at the ground behind her where your men are still busy building the pyres for those who'd been lost.

"What the hell happened?!" Clarke demands with ice in her voice. Again, your insides curl up with disgust at yourself.

Look at what you turned her into. 

(It's always your fault, Lexa.)

"We were protecting our people," another voice pipes up, and when you see the crowd part, you recognize the boy as Bellamy. You swallow the emotion in your throat as you remember that this is the boy you were willing to let two-hundred and fifty of your people die over. This is the boy that you trusted to get in and out of Mount Weather so that your armies may attack. You saved him and let your own people die, and now, he has returned the favour by killing yours in cold blood. You wish that you could conjure up enough rage to wipe them all out, to get rid of the _Skaïkru_ completely, but you can't.

It's a never ending cycle. First, it was the Shallow Valley. Then it was the Ice Nation. Now it's  _Skaïkru_. 

Who will be next? 

"Where is Marcus Kane?" You ask, ignoring the pointed glare from the boy with the shaggy hair. "I wish to speak to your leader."

"You're looking at him," Pike snarls, holstering his gun and crossing his arms. "I was elected two days ago as Arkadia's Chancellor."

A few shouts of 'Pike', lead by the boy Bellamy, echo through the small crowd. Clarke looks aghast, and you know that she must be worried about her mother. You suck in a breath between your teeth as you think. You need to be pragmatic, but you don't know what else you can do. Your clans will demand justice for this massacre. You were barely able to negotiate Finn's life for the eighteen lost in TonDC, but how can you negotiate for three hundred?

"I sent those warriors as a peace-keeping army to ensure your clan's safety," you say in a level tone, though you're bordering on rage. Pike doesn't react, other than the faintest snort. Your scouts look about ready to fling themselves at him, eager to cut into his skin and flay him alive for his nonchalance.

"Grounders are all the same," he responds with malice, "you sent them here to kill us."

"No!" Clarke juts in, shaking her head as she walks forward. Your eyes widen with fear as she approaches the man with a glare so sharp it could cut through a tree itself. She stands in front of Pike, though she's a few inches shorter than the man, and she stares him down in complete disbelief and frustration.

"What you did out there is an act of war," she says through gritted teeth, "and in case you haven't noticed, you only have two hundred people. The army the Commander has is well over ten thousand. You may have guns, but you don't stand a fucking chance. You just sentenced your people to death, Pike."

"My people?" Pike says, shaking his head. "You are my people, Clarke. Stop playing pretend and come back."

"Like hell I'm your people," Clarke spits, causing Bellamy and a few of the others to gasp. "I don't murder innocent people."

"But you did," Pike says calmly, taking a step forward so he can tower over Clarke menacingly. "You killed three hundred people in the Mountain."

" _Enough_!" You bellow out as you notice the flash of fear that washes over Clarke's pale face. You step forward and ignore how Pike raises his gun again. You place your hand on the handle of your sword, but you don't draw it out. You refuse to let anyone else die under your blade or command, not yet.

"Take another step and you're dead, _savage_." Pike snarls the words at you, full of menace. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you stare him down. You don't edge forward, but you do not back down either. There's a rustling among the crowd, a few murmurs that you cannot distinguish as you remain impassive to the man's threats. You stare at him, getting a read of his brutish and impulsive attitude from the flicker of fear in his eyes from your glare.

"If I die," you say calmly, cooly, "then you _will_ be at war. I am the one person preventing your people's slaughter, Chancellor."

"I'd listen to her if I were you," Octavia's voice sounds from behind you. Cocking your head, you watch as the younger of the Blake siblings stands at your side with her blade in her hands. Fury dances in her green depths, laced with betrayal and hatred when she looks over to her brother. Pike snorts again.

"And what power do you have? You're just a girl," he says, rolling his eyes and chuckling. You don't react. 

"That _girl_ ," a familiar voice sounds out as you look up to see Kane weaving his way through the crowd, "is the Commander of the Coalition."

"Marcus," you say kindly to him, noticing the strain in his eyes and the guilt in his posture. "This man tells me that you are no longer their leader."

"It's true," he says with a defeated sigh, "we held the election two days ago and Pike's the new Chancellor."

"War is brewing," you tell the two men with a serious tone, "if you really want the best for your people, you will allow me entrance to your camp."

"Pike," Kane urges the other man pleadingly, "there are children, families here. If we can entertain a peace-"

"Grounders don't know the definition of peace," Pike cuts him off, his eyes still glued to your own. Your lips curl back into a snarl, and every ounce of restraint you once had has now disappeared. You step forward, ignorant of the metal weapon pointed in your face. You stand before him and growl.

"If war is what you want," you tell him impassively, ignoring Clarke's teary gaze burning into your back, "war is what you will get. What will it be?"

Pike is quiet for a moment, looking between you, Kane, and the murmuring crowd that stands around him. You can see the children that had been playing earlier in the fields now at the front gate, staring at you with open jaws and wide eyes. You do not beg, but the stare you send to Pike is one of sheer desperation. You do not want to kill them. You are so tired of killing. Kane looks just as torn and pleading, and you almost sigh when Pike nods slightly.

"Your guards stay outside the gate," he says with a grunt, and you nod back at them. The two scouts seem unsure, but you straighten your back and glare. They get the message and retreat back to where your dead are being prepared for their pyres. You repress a sigh and nod to Clarke to come forward. Kane looks like he wants to embrace you from the way he bows his head and gestures towards the Ark. You set your jaw and follow reluctantly after Pike.

"I don't get it," Octavia murmurs to you as you put some space between you and the new chancellor, "why aren't you just going to war?"

"Not everything should be about revenge," you reply, glancing over at Clarke's distant expression. "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."

Octavia can't seem to find words after that, and for some reason, you're grateful for her silence. Kane leads you through the metal halls until you reach a conference room. Octavia mumbles something about going to see Lincoln, leaving Pike with you, Kane, and Clarke. Just as you are about to begin talking, something whooshes past you and envelopes Clarke in an embrace. You're about to reach for your sword out of protection when you notice that it's Abby latching onto her daughter, apologizing into her ear and thanking God that she is alive and well. Your heart aches at the thought of your own mother.

You'd thought that maybe one day, when the war was over and you could live freely, she'd embrace you once more.

"Abby," Pike grumbles, causing the two to break apart. "The Commander here wants to negotiate."

"She shouldn't have to," Abby snarls at him, standing in front of her daughter. "What you did was wrong. We warned you. We _all_ warned you."

"Who is 'we'?" You ask, glancing over to Kane. He shifts on his feet and steps up beside Abby. "Your decision was not unanimous?"

"No," he explains as he nods to Pike, "he gave the full authority. Lincoln, Abby, Octavia, and I warned him that the army was there on peaceful terms, but he thought to eliminate them. Saw them as a threat. He knew that it was the Ice Nation who attacked you, but he thought to be against us." Pike bites his lip and crosses his arms in an attempt to be intimidating, but you can see the small falter in his gaze when his words are parroted back towards him. 

"The Ice Nation's threat is subdued for now," you say with a low sigh, "but this matter is something worse than the Ice Nation. You attacked people from my own village. My most trusted general could've been killed as a result of this. There was no threat from us, but you have made one from this attack."

"What happens to our people?" Abby gulps nervously, her eyes flitting to Clarke. "You are the Commander. Can't you pardon this mistake?"

"Pardon you?!" You hiss in a low seethe. You stalk towards her and shake your head in disbelief. "You murdered husbands, wives, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters - _children_! You murdered them in cold blood and you expect to be pardoned for it? When your boy took the lives of eighteen and paid his price, that was a pardon. This… this is something entirely different, _Abi kom Skaïkru_. While you are under the protection of my coalition, there is not a single excuse for this crime. Not one that isn't valid of punishment. If our situations were reversed, you would act the same way that I do." 

"We're not under your damned coalition," Pike mutters as he leans back to jerk his head up. "I rejected your brand, Grounder."

"She is the Commander," Clarke spits out before you can respond to his statement. She comes to stand in front of your protectively, her blue eyes flashing with rage as she snarls, "and you will treat her with respect. If you want your people safe, she is the only key to getting it. So stand the fuck down."

"Clarke," you say quietly, gently placing your hand in her elbow so you may reel her back in. "Calm, Clarke. Anger will get us nowhere."

"What do we do?" Abby asks again, her voice but a quiver as she looks between you and Pike. "How can we prevent a retaliation?"

"You can't," you say icily, "not with a mass this large. There is only so much I can do, but I can't protect you if you reject the brand."

"Then protect the ones who don't," Kane says as he folds up his sleeve to reveal the burn mark. "Not everyone voted for Pike. Those who are innocent from this attack should be spared. The children, too. Let those who committed the crime atone for their mistake, Commander. Be merciful as you were with Finn." You grind your teeth and place your hand back on the hilt of your blade, shaking your head with disdain as you mull over his words.

"You would be asking for death regardless," you say as you look at Pike. "Those who murdered will be executed like Finn was meant to be."

"Can't you not allow us to put them in jail?" Abby asks desperately, her eyes wet with tears. "Some are kids like Bellamy, Harper, and Monroe."

"They followed him," you say, nodding to the ever-impassive Pike, "no matter their age, they are just as guilty as he is."

"I am not dying for protecting my people," Pike snarls as he reaches again for his gun, "you don't make the rules."

"I do," you say with a grating voice, "and if what Marcus says is true, that there are people willing to follow me under my law in my coalition, then this attack will be against them, too. When a single clan is attacked, the entire force of the coalition will move against the attacker. You reject my brand? My entire army of thirteen clans will avenge the attack together, regardless of whether or not they feel inclined. It is our way, Chancellor. Your people _will_ die."

"So you _do_ want to kill us?" Pike says, aghast. He glances to Abby and Kane. "I can't believe we're still listening to this savage."

"She's not the savage," Clarke growls protectively as she stands before you, " _you_ are."

 

* * *

_I am my father's name sake_

_I am my mother's first born_

_I plough the earth_

_and I plant the corn_

* * *

 

"So what are our options?" Marcus asks, pointedly ignoring Pike now. "Commander, there's got to be something we can work out."

Lexa's gaze darkens and she paces around the table. You can see the cogs in her pragmatic brain working, and you're so glad that she's always so level-headed and thorough. If you were the Commander, you already know that there wouldn't have been a negotiation. You would've started your war and ended Pike's fight. You still think about Bellamy, about how he could have betrayed you and all the hard work you'd put in just for petty revenge. It baffles you.

"Indra is bringing another army at sundown," Lexa murmurs as she pauses, working her jaw as she tries to process what she's saying. "My general is furious, Marcus. The first time was hard enough to convince them of mercy. They would've tied me to that same tree as Finn if I hadn't been able to convince them of Clarke's suffering being equivalent to the pain of eighteen deaths. But, as the thirteenth clan, I am obligated to vouch for you."

"Obligated?" Pike snorts, shaking his head. "Spit it out, Grounder."

Lexa's eyes narrow, but she doesn't react to the slang. Instead, she takes a breath and explains, "because Clarke vowed fealty to me, her people have been endowed with my protection. I can prevent a war with our people only if there is enough blood shed in place of the warriors that had been killed." You don't miss how she says our instead of your, and neither do your mother or Kane. Even Pike looks slightly taken aback that Lexa would openly admit to taking _Skaïkru_ as one of her clans. But you know it's true. Lexa's word is law, and if she means your people are protected under her coalition, then they are.

"But we're not the thirteenth clan," Marcus growls as he glares at Pike, "not anymore. I don't imagine you'll accept us back, Commander?"

You know it's a stretch as much as he does. What happened to Lexa's army was unjustified and worthy of more than just a capital punishment. Lexa swallows and paces around the room again, her gaze dropping to the ground as she thinks. There's a tense silence, and for a moment, you pity the burden that is upon the young woman's shoulders. You wonder if this what her entire life had been. Nothing but a constant roundabout of killing and war. Finally, she stops and looks up, but there's something dark and hidden in her glazed green eyes. Your heart aches for her in this moment because you know she is so utterly torn. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she nods almost defeatedly, looking away from you and instead directly at Kane.

"There is one option, but I must concede with Indra," she responds slowly, testing the words as they leave her mouth. You feel the dread building in the pit of your stomach at the expression in her eyes as she nods once more. " _Skaïkru_ is still the thirteenth clan. Those who follow you will be spared, Marcus."

"And those who don't?" Pike asks, jutting his chin up. Lexa sighs tiredly, one hand moving up to rub at her temple. She looks so exhausted that you almost want to tell her to stop and allow her armies to march on the convicted. But Lexa, as brave and daring as always, straightens up and wipes away the fatigue.

"The Ice Nation murdered your people when you landed," she says without any animosity in her voice, "if this is your form of revenge for that attack, you must be warned that it is not justified. You placed the blame on a clan that had nothing to do with your people. You murdered innocents, and for that, you must pay in your own blood. Whether you surrender those accused or die in a war is up to you. If only a select group killed those warriors, then only those will be punished for their crimes. I understand that you wanted to keep your people safe, but starting wars you cannot finish was not the way to do it."

You hear Anya in every word she drops. Lexa looks just as calm and level as Anya had been on that bridge during your first negotiations. But Lexa isn't like Anya in the way that Lexa doesn't just hear everything, but she _listens_ , too. You know that the last thing she needs is a war, especially after the attempted coup. You wonder why she's not told Kane and Pike of what really happened in Polis, but knowing Lexa, she'd probably reference something to the past being irrelevant to the present affairs. Lexa is smart like that. She doesn't hold grudges like you. Deep down, you know that she is an amazing person.

You really wish your people hadn't killed Anya because she'd be so proud of Lexa.

"I won't let them die for the action we took," Pike says again stubbornly, shaking his head. Lexa's chest deflates slightly as she winces. Her arm curls around her waist subtly and you know that her injuries are flaring up. You instinctively move towards her, but she pushes down the pain and straightens again.

"Someone has to die," Lexa replies, her voice a bit scratchy. Your mother raises her brow at you in concern because she can hear the pain just as well as you can. "Whether or not you want to accept that is up to you. If you really deem yourself to be the protective leader you claim yourself to be, you will atone for your mistakes. The others won't be pardoned, but I can try to negotiate with Indra and the other clan chiefs for a suitable punishment."

"What kind of punishment are you talking about?" Pike asks, mulling over Lexa's response. You watch the girl work her jaw again tiredly.

"Banishment to the Dead Lands and exclusion from _Skaïkru_ ," she mutters plainly, "it would be the only other acceptable punishment."

"Even the kids?" Marcus asks sadly. Lexa takes a moment before she nods, averting his gaze.

"Anyone who committed the crime will pay for it in full, regardless if they were the executor or just a hired gun," Lexa responds as she looks to Pike. "You, however, _will_ face the pain of three hundred deaths. Banishment will not come to you for you are the one who put this plan into place." Lexa looks to you, but you don't offer the slightest merciful glance. She almost sighs in relief, and you know she's think back to when you'd stabbed Finn to stop him from enduring the tortuous death that Gustus had faced. Pike doesn't speak, but his eyes are furious. Before he can reach for his gun again, Kane stops him.

"The kids have survived landing on Earth by themselves," Kane murmurs as he lays his hand over the gun, lowering Pike's hand. "They will survive in the Dead Lands somehow. You said that you'd be willing to do anything to protect your people. This is your chance to prove it, Chancellor."

"You expect me to die because a Grounder told me to?" Pike says with disbelief. "She could be lying for all we know."

"She isn't," you cut in before Lexa can speak. At this point, you don't care about her stance on the events in Polis. Your people need to hear the truth. "Lexa was put in a coup from her ambassadors over our clans because they didn't trust us. If it weren't for her, none of us would even be here and instead, the Ice Nation would be slaughtering us all in less merciful ways than you could possibly imagine. She won't say it because she doesn't think it's relevant, but Lexa put her fucking life on the line to ensure that our people remain within the coalition and are saved. If you don't comply, she'll be dethroned and killed."

"And how should that affect me?" Pike argues again. You almost want to take his gun and end his life yourself, but you refrain as Lexa passes you a disapproving glare. You know that she's mad for you speaking in her place, but sometimes she's too damned humble for her own good. 

"The coalition falls and everyone dies," you say bluntly, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. "All of this will have been for nothing."

"Okay, so humour me then. You said that your ambassadors plotted to overthrow you," Pike says, glancing back to Lexa with a hard stare. "What happens if they try to do that again, huh? What if they say that _you're_ the one at fault for these people dying because they were under your protection. Would you accept it if they told _you_ to die?" Pike looks confident in his words, but Lexa doesn't even hazard a change in her impassive expression.

" _I_ commanded Indra to gather the people from the nearest clans as a peace-keeping force," she says slowly, her voice tired and strained. She nods her head up and sighs. "If my ambassadors saw it to be my fault and put me to death, then yes. Only if an unanimous vote is reached, however. That is the law. If all thirteen clans view this massacre as my doing, then they would kill me and then kill all of you to follow. Blood must have blood, Chancellor, but only _I_ can change the amount of blood that is to be shed. Do not think that I did not care for those three hundred that were murdered. The warrior in me demands the same thing as my people, but the leader, the _Commander_ of this coalition, knows better than to lose more in a war not worthy of fighting." 

Pike and the others are as speechless as you. Of course Lexa talks about her death as nonchalantly as possible, but now, hearing the defeat in her tone as she speaks those words makes you wonder if she's ever had a life that doesn't revolve around her passing. You wonder if it's perhaps engrained in her from birth to know that she is nothing but a vessel for her people. That her life is as easily given as it is taken. Her eyes remain wise and calm, unaffected by the bold statement she'd just produced. Kane and your mother exchange a worried glance, but Pike seems to have let the words sink in slightly.

"You'd die for your people over this?" He asks suspiciously. "Without a fight?"

"I sent them here," Lexa repeats calmly, "they are my responsibility. Just as _Skaïkru_ is also my responsibility."

"She's not going to die," you step in again, ignoring the way Lexa sighs your name in exhaustion, "because I won't vote for it. Neither will Ice Nation."

"Ice Nation?" Pike snorts, shaking his head. "They were the ones that started it in the first place."

"There is a new monarch leading them," you answer deftly before he can get another word in. "King Roan was spared by Lexa when she fought him in the ring. His banishment was lifted after the Queen's death and he rules the Ice Nation now. He owes her his life and his allegiance. He will not vote."

"All Grounders are the same," Pike reiterates but before you can speak, a fist slams down on a table, startling the two of you. Both of you, and Kane and Abby, look over to see Lexa at the end of the table, glaring and seething at you and Pike in pure frustration. Pike opens his mouth, but Lexa shakes her head. She removes her hand, which you now notice has begun to bleed again through the black fabric of her bracer, and straightens her back.

" _Enough_ of this mindless squabble," she says with a low growl, glaring at Pike. "You will accept these terms or you will face war. Your choice."

"Can we have some time to think about it?" Kane opts to say instead with a neutral tone. "Maybe I can talk something out with Indra?"

Lexa sighs defeatedly, and you know that she is seconds away from saying there's no point in the matter, but she nods anyways. Kane lets out a relieved breath as he motions for Pike to leave the room so they may talk alone. Abby and Lexa stay put in the room, but neither of them speak. You can see the pain in Lexa's eyes as she keeps her stare glued to the table, where there's the faintest splotch of black blood on the steel. You're about to reach for her when her lips part and the smallest crack of a whimper parts her lips. Your mother's brows nearly shoot to the ceiling at the noise, but you glare at her.

"I don't want to fight another war," she says as she hunches over the table slightly. "I took _Skaïkru_ in to prevent war. I made Roan king for the same reason. _Clarke_ ," her voice trembles on your name as she looks up at you, "my people are tired. They will not see reason in many of these demands. My hands are tied and I am not sure that I can guarantee safety for all of our people. I will do my best, but I fear that it may not be enough to sate their pain. "

 _I'm sorry I failed you again_ , she doesn't say, and it damn near breaks your heart when you see it in her eyes.

"I won't let my people hurt yours," you say adamantly, "I won't let them get away with this. Justice must be served." Lexa shakes her head.

" _Our_ people are already hurt," she corrects you, standing straight again. "I cannot take back their deaths or their pain."

"Commander," Abby says quietly, "why did you make us the thirteenth clan? Why not just sign a peace treaty?"

"A peace treaty would've only been valid for _Trikru_ and _Skaïkru_ ," Lexa answers in short, taking a deep breath. "I wouldn't have been able to protect you if the Ice Nation made their move in your stead because it falls outside of the agreement, and I… I couldn't lose…" Lexa stops herself, furrowing her brows tightly as she mentally pulls herself together. Her eyes flit up to yours once, but then they cast back down to the ground as she sighs again in exhaustion.

"My people's spirits will be released tonight," she says quietly, glancing up to you and Abby. "I must help my scouts prepare and wait for Indra."

"Of course," Abby says as she nods her head gratefully. You know that your mother doesn't particularly like Lexa, but you can see that she's beginning to understand just how much all of this is affecting the young girl. Lexa sighs and looks to you once before turning and heading towards the exit.

And then, it's just you and your mother.

"She could've gone back an ordered everyone to kill us all," Abby says quietly as the tense air between the two of you settles. "She could've-"

"Lexa doesn't want to hurt me," you interrupt her with a cold growl, "she's… she's doing it for _me_ , Mom."

Abby is quiet then, not able to pass you a second glance as she looks to her hands. Her throat bobs as she takes in the words. Tears burn at your eyes as you remember how Lexa, the great and powerful Heda, fell to her knees at the sight of her mother murdered in cold blood. You reach out and grab at Abby's shoulders, falling into her arms as you sob into her neck. Your mother hums and immediately swathes you in that familiar warmth, but you feel selfish. You feel selfish because you're here hugging your mother while Lexa is outside mourning hers. You grip Abby tighter at that thought.

"She loves you, doesn't she?" Abby murmurs after sometime of silence, "that's why she's doing all of this, isn't it?"

 _Yes_ , you want to tell her, but you don't know what Lexa feels half the time and you don't want to be selfish again.

"She's just doing what's right for her - for  _our_ \- people," you correct yourself that time, because you know that Lexa _is_ your people now. Abby sighs, not arguing with your answer, but not agreeing with it at the same time. You close your eyes, your mind flashing with the image of Lexa's rare smile in your bedroom. You remember the peace in her eyes, an expression you'd not seen before, even when you'd first met her three months ago.

"This isn't right," you say as you pull back with a growl, "Lexa should be going to war. What happened was unacceptable, Mom. And Pike-"

"Pike will get what's coming to him," Abby says, her voice just as low and angered as your own. "Lexa won't let that go undone."

"I will fucking kill him if he tries to escape," you tell her with a serious glare, "he had no right to do that to them, to _her_."

"Clarke…," your mother drifts off, saddened at the frustration laden heavily in your voice. "I know you're upset-"

"Upset?!" You practically roar. "Did you go outside?! Did you see all those bodies like we did? They were innocent! They were sent to _help_ you!"

"Clarke, please-"

"Lexa almost died," you say as the tears well up in your eyes again, "and I could've really fucking killed her if I'd succeeded in assassinating the Ice Queen. I would've not only have gotten her killed but the rest of us, too. Lexa is a good person and she's smart. She doesn't want to fight a war with us even when she has the full right to do so. Those people that were murdered weren't just her warriors, Mom, they were her family. Pike killed her _mother_."

Abby's face falls at the last statement, and you're sobbing now. You shakes your head as you turn your gaze elsewhere. The overwhelming guilt of knowing that your people been at the fault for Anya, for three hundred of her warriors at the drop ship, and then eighteen of her innocent villagers nearly knocks you down. You remember how Bellamy had senselessly tortured Lincoln for information. You remember how Raven blew up the bridge that killed Tris.

You're the savages, not them.

"The Ice Queen tortured and beheaded the love of her life, and Lexa didn't start a war. We trespassed on their land and tortured a Grounder, and she didn't start a war. It was only after we accidentally burned through one of her villages did she send warriors to attack. Lexa doesn't want to fight, Mom. She's a peacemaker first and a warrior second," you explain as you glance back at your mother desperately. You shake your head bitterly and growl, "all Lexa does is give. The kids she's training, her advisor told me that she's the first Commander to ever train them and teach them about compassion, wisdom, and strength being the pillars of a Commander. She urges them to think with their minds, to read and to express themselves. She plays with them and nurtures them when they're ailing and more importantly, she fills the gap of their missing parents because she knows what it feels like to grow up alone. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. Lexa is better than any single person in this camp, myself included. She never puts herself first for anything. And now this…"

"I'm sorry I never trusted her," Abby admits sincerely, glancing down. "I never knew."

"None of us did," you say with a shake of your head, "if we did, we wouldn't have been at war. Lexa's only ruthless in battle, Mom."

"But our people won't see that," your mother completes the point you'd been trying to make, "and that is why she cannot help us."

You just nod silently, allowing the tears to streak down your face. You feel like a failure. You made a promise to your people when you swore fealty to Lexa, that you would protect them and vouch for them in their absence. You wish that you could turn back time to before you'd been in your bedroom. You wish that instead of telling her to leave, that you could've held her face in your hands and told her you were so thankful for her actions, that you forgave her. But you know that there will always be a part of that decision she made on the Mountain that you will never forgive, but Lexa will take whatever you have because it's not new to her. You sensed that when her ambassadors betrayed her. You finalized it when she explained why she spared their lives.

"Lexa is so good, Mom," you whisper the words as you bow your head, "her people love her. She protects them, _us_ , from the hardships of war."

She, like you, bears it so they don't have to.

"How do we fix this?" Abby asks after some time. She looks scared, anxious, terrified. "How do we fix what we've done?"

This time, as you look at her, you apathetically shake your head with a soft scoff.

"You can't," you say with a bitter chuckle, "the only thing we can do now is wait and pray like hell that everyone else is as smart as Lexa."

 

* * *

_who will love me in the winter_

_who will love me when it's cold_

_what I want is bread, all I have are stones_

_and it's too late for me to cry_

* * *

 

Indra arrives just as you exit the complex.

Her eyes are guarded but furious, and you know that she wants nothing more than to lay waste to Pike's _kru_. You know that she's developed a kind relationship with Kane and that the two work well together, but Kane isn't one of the _Trikru_. Kane's people committed an act of murder unforgivable by death itself, and it's something that Indra won't be able to let go of, regardless of if you're able to talk her down from going to war. You walk up to her with tired steps, your wounds protesting from the fight two days prior. Coupled with the five-hour ride, you're thoroughly sore and exhausted.

"Heda," Indra grunts out a cold, short greeting as you approach her. You nod to let her know she may speak freely.

"Has a consensus been reached with the _Skaïkru_?" She asks bitterly, glaring at the camp from over your shoulder. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose to alleviate the ache there temporarily before you shake your head. Indra bites her lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood, but you ignore it.

"Kane and Abby were not involved, as well as a few of the others. It was that other man, Pike, they call him. He was the one who ordered the attack on our soldiers," you explain slowly, watching the flicker of relief that passes through Indra's dark eyes when you mention Kane and Abby were not involved. You almost chuckle at how far she's managed to come in three months. There'd been a time when she'd hungered for both their blood and not their safety. 

"Have you decided the action to be taken?" Indra asks instead, turning her attention fully to you. "Will _Trikru_ fight?"

"Not if I can help it," you say as you push past her and make your way towards the fully built pyres. "I do not wish for another war."

"Scouts have told me Nia is dead," Indra says, catching the hint that you do not wish to sick your armies on the Sky People. You nod.

"Roan will make a great leader," you reply as you remember the look on his face as you'd named him the new king, "he is insightful and wise."

"Heda," Indra says seriously, garnering your attention with the tone of her voice. You almost wince when you turn around to face her. She takes in a deep breath before telling you, "the other clans are demanding proper repayment. They claim that these nonsense fights amongst the _Skaïkru_ have gone on for too long. They are not willing to send forth more warriors unless those warriors are meant to kill those who'd murdered our own. They want justice."

"They want vengeance," you correct her as you straighten your back and harden your stare, " _justice_ is the man who executed the plan paying for his action in his own blood. Vengeance is the murder of the innocents who had no part in the manner." Indra visibly clenches her jaw at your answer, but you can see from the understanding in her eyes that you speak true. A sigh parts your lips as you gaze back to the bodies that will be burned tonight.

"Will he?" Indra asks, cocking her head as she eyes you warily. You close your eyes and sigh.

"If he does not," you say as you turn around, "then our people will have their vengeance, Indra."

"Do you not wish the same, Heda?" Indra asks, eyeing the bodies behind you. "They killed-"

"I am perfectly aware of who they killed," you growl warningly, asserting your power as Heda. Indra nods and doesn't speak again on the topic, her gaze hardening as she folds her hands behind her back. You look to the top of the mountain where more of your warriors wait on your decision. You already know that all the war chiefs from each village are there, as well as the ambassadors from the twelve other clans. You swallow your nerves and sigh.

"There is only one way to prevent a war," you say, gazing back to Indra. She immediately understands what you wish to say, but you hold your hand out and do not allow her to voice her opinion. She looks grief-stricken that you'd even consider it to be an option, especially after the events in Polis. Even with your hand outstretched, your most beloved general fights your opinion with glassy eyes and a scratchy voice.

"You cannot find this answer to be logical, Heda!" She exclaims with a bite to her voice. "It is something that your chiefs-"

"Will accept should you convince them," you answer for her plainly, "which you will."

"Heda, you cannot expect me to do this," Indra pleads sadly, shaking her head in disagreement. "You are being reckless."

"I am doing what is best for our people," you snap at her, frustrated that this endless loop has not ceased. " _Skaïkru_ are our people now and they are innocent from this act of war. It was a select group of traitors to their clan that are in need of punishment, which they will receive. No more innocent blood will be spilled from my hands, Indra. I have enough of the fighting and sacrificing. I know it to be a result of war, but tell me, haven't we had enough?" Your voice nearly cracks again as you plead to your general to understand that you do not wish to sentence anymore innocent people to their deaths.

"Tradition dictates that blood must have blood," you say with a quiet sigh, "and that is what will be given."

"Heda…," Indra trails off, her voice small and soft. You shake your head, swallowing down the tears that threaten to fall.

"No," you tell her sternly, "when my spirit passes, it will be during a time of peace. I will not have Aden making the same choices I had to."

"You cannot guarantee peace," Indra argues again, "you are not a God."

"But I am Heda," you say as you straighten your back and stare her down, "and the responsibility of keeping them safe falls to me."

"You could die," Indra replies with a shake of her head, "I urge you to reconsider."

"And I urge you to remember your place, General." Your tone is clipped as you issue the words, and as much as you hate referring to Indra in such a demeaning voice, you know that this is a decision that you must make and a consequence you must face alone. Indra looks ready to argue again, but your glare causes her to sigh and relinquish her disappointment. It hurst you deeply to know that she thinks of you as a failure, but you are exactly that.

"I just wanted to save them," you murmur quietly, looking to your hands and imagining the blood, "I just wanted peace."

"Peace is a foreign concept to these people," Indra says without emotion, "and yet you continue to antagonize them."

"Indra," you growl her name, but she shakes her head, avoiding your glance.

"You made your choice, Heda. I will see it through. Do not expect me to feel comfortable with your decision, whether or not I am forced to accept it. I will do as you ask, but I do not know if I will succeed. I will try," Indra tells you as she glances up at the tent with your warriors awaiting their next move. 

"I hope you know what you're doing," Indra grunts with obvious disdain. " _You_ are the only person holding this all together."

You don't reply as she takes her leave. You are left standing there, with an empty, sinking feeling in your gut as you look to your fallen warriors. You know which pile contains your family, for your scouts had notified you prior to talking with Indra. You make your way over to the wooden mass and nearly sink to your knees again. You hold yourself together, however, because you know exactly what needs to be done. You will mourn their losses when you are free from this war. You will grieve each and every one of your warriors, friends, loved ones, when you are allowed to be Lexa and not just the Commander.

You wonder how soon that day will arrive.

A part of you prays it to be soon, but another, sadistic part wishes yourself to live so you may ensure Clarke's safety. You know that if Anya were here, she'd be scolding you for being so foolish. Perhaps you would've listened to her. She was the only one other than Costia that ever got through to you. Gustus tried, but he was always more of an advisor than a friend. Anya was your mentor, sister, and mother all rolled into one. She taught you to think with your head where Costia taught you to empathize with your heart. Anya told you how to protect your people and Costia told you how to be one with them. And then came the fateful days when you lost both of them, leaving your head a crimson-stained battlefield and your heart a bottomless cemetery.

You may never be whole again.

But then there is Clarke, the girl who fell from the sky and challenged your views upon everything. She was the girl who reached inside of you and grabbed at the very organ that keeps you alive and she held it with her delicate hands. She was the one who saw through the layers of walls and dams you'd built around it, around you, to protect yourself from the dangers of luxuries like love and friendship. Her lips, as soft and chapped as they'd been, unleashed things inside of you that you'd thought had weathered away with the constant fighting. She brought back Lexa from the dead, only to hate her.

But it's okay, you think as you glance to the pile of bodies, you hate yourself, too.

Your people come down from the hills after an hour, crowding around you as the night falls. Lincoln and Octavia show up, mournful and guilty as they stare at the fifteen massive pyres your scouts had built. There is unease through the crowd and the murmurings indicate that Indra has discussed the charges with your war council. You look up from where you stand on the podium to see her make her way through the crowd and towards you. The desolate expression in her eyes tells all, and part of you is relieved that your leaders accepted your proposition. Your general looks gutted as she stares up at you, teary-eyed and mournful, but you shake your head. You keep your stoic and calm mask as you gaze out into the crowd awaiting your speech.

"What happened here today is unforgivable," you say into the crowd, your voice bellowing out over your warriors. "Those who laid down their lives were peacekeepers. They were our _nomons_ , _nontus_ , our _bros_  and our _sises_. They were our _yongons_ and our elders in the same." You gaze out to your people as they cheer in agreement. You look over their shoulders to see Kane, Abby, Clarke, and Raven standing a few paces away, watching in silent support.

"The dead will be avenged," you say as you look to the broken faces of all your warriors. "And we will rebuild from the ash as we always have. We are warriors and survivors. We will move forward from this attack so that our children, and our children's children, can have a land in which they may run free. We fight the wars we must to ensure their survival. We shoulder the burden together, my friends. We will not let the sacrifices of those lost be in vain."

The guilt tries to creep up again but you push it down. You are handed the torch by Indra as you look down the pyre before you. Each of the war chiefs from the different clans have taken up their own torches and are standing behind the piles of bodies from their clans, awaiting your command. You keep your stare planted to the wooden logs, trying not to imagine the blood on your mother's coat or the glazed green eyes that stared up to the sky. You try to push away the torn flesh in your father's chest or the missing eye from your brother's face. You loved them so much, but you will never get to tell them.

" _Yu gonplei ste odon,_ " you say as you lower the torch, " _mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim._ "

The crowd echoes your words as your war chiefs set their torches down on their own pyres. The crowd falls into a silence as heads are lowered and prayers are sent so they the spirits of those who've died may find safe travels to their new lives. You keep your stare, hard and distant, to the burning bodies in front of you. How many more must be taken so that the world may find balance? How many lives can you touch that will perish? One day, you thought yourself to be worthy of love, and the day that happened, everyone you'd ever loved slowly were taken from you. It's a never ending cycle.

 _If this is love_ , you remember telling Anya as Costia's head was delivered to you, _then_   _I do not want it. Take it from me and let me live freely._

 _Love is fleeting_ , she'd told you as she pulled you into your arms, _but it is a stronger weapon than any sword, sis. Love is what will set you free._

You wonder if she'd say the same thing now as you look to Clarke, knowing you'd throw yourself on a spear for her.

After the pyres are faded out, the warriors return to their tents for the judgement in the morning. You, however, remain standing by the ash in the ground. Indra had muttered a few words of condolences before she retreated for the night. But you are numb, like you've always been. There are only so much an apology can do. It cannot turn back time to a place where you'd been held in your father's arms while your mother kissed your forehead. It cannot allow you to go to the river where Costia first kissed you and called you hers. It cannot remove the pain that you carry so that your people may live without sorrow. It cannot remove the hatred and disgust you see in the mirror whenever you return from battle. It cannot undo every decision you've once regretted.

No, love can do nothing but _destroy_ you.

"We've made up a room for you on the Ark," a soft, female voice snaps you from your thoughts. You glance up to see Abby standing across from you alone, her eyes guarded and dark, so unlike her daughter's own dazzling blue pair. You clear your throat and try to mask your feelings, but Abby shakes her head.

"Clarke insists that you sleep inside," she says with a light sigh, "she can be quite persistent and sometimes it's better to just appease her."

"She is quite stubborn," you agree with a nod, "but her intentions are made with a clear mind. She does what she must for her people."

"As do you," Abby remarks as she looks across to the burnt out pyres. "You know, I never thought to see anything beyond the death."

"Our bodies are finite," you tell her as you step down from the platform and look to the stars, "but our souls are forever."

"Pike said that he will atone for his charges," Abby whispers quietly and you nod, sighing in relief. "Bellamy and the others will be banished."

"Should they redeem themselves, I will lift it. They were following orders, however willingly, but their punishment will serve them to correct their morals," you explain to the _Skaïkru's_ lead healer. You give her another nod as you cross your arms behind your back. "The Dead Lands sound ferocious, but they survived a war against three hundred of my finest warriors. They will figure something out and return to your camp once I've deemed fit."

"I never expected you to be so…," Abby trails off, trying to find a word. You utter a soft, sad chuckle.

"Forgiving?" You finish for her. She nods, her cheeks taking on a reddish tint from embarrassment. "I was born to protect my people. What kind of leader would I be if I couldn't forgive those who right their wrongs? If I took my revenge for everything, war would be a constant and life would have no worth." 

"How old _are_ you?" Abby blurts out suddenly, and you're taken aback at how she looks at you. It's a mixed expression of both bafflement and awe. You shrug and look back to the stars under the clear sky. The smell of burnt flesh is still fresh in the air, but it's a scent you're accustomed to by now.

"I think I'm closing on twenty summers," you tell her as you nod your head back down. Abby cocks her head in confusion.

"You don't know your own birthday?" She asks, shaking her head in disbelief. You smile at her sadly and nod.

"Birthdays are not a luxury I can afford to have," you tell her as you take a deep, tired breath. "Commanders do not live long. We take what we can."

"Well, how long have you been the Commander?" Abby asks you again. _Damn Sky People and their questions_ , you think as you shake your head.

"Six winters," you tell her calmly, "I have lived the longest."

"You've been ruling since you were fourteen," Abby deduces as if it were some complex math equation. If it weren't for the fact that she's Clarke's mother you'd have rolled your eyes and called her a _branwada_. She dips her head and looks back to Arkadia, a distant glaze passing over her dull brown eyes.

"I heard that you lost your family in the massacre," she apologizes with a soft sniffle, "my condolences, Commander." You don't speak for a few seconds. You simply let the words sink through your flesh and into your veins. You remember the last words your mother ever utter to you and you flinch sadly.

"After our clans were at peace, I would've gone to visit them," you opt to say instead, keeping your voice level and calm despite the urge to break. "I would've let my mother braid my hair and hunted with my father and brother. The life of a Commander is a dangerous one. I had to ensure their safety." Your voice cracks on the last statement, but you push the mask over your eyes and hold back your tears. You clench your jaw and swallow down your emotions. Abby looks visibly torn between reaching out to comfort you and running back to her camp. You do not expect anything of her, yet she speaks.

"I'm sure they loved you greatly," the healer says with a kind but solemn nod, "they must have been proud of you."

"No," you whisper, glancing to your feet, "they thought me to be selfish for keeping them away. Their last words to me were not of love, Abby."

"Their last _words_ maybe," Abby replies thoughtfully, "but perhaps not their last thoughts?"

You glance up to her, looking at the clarity and understanding in her gaze that makes you think of her deceased husband, of the father Clarke had spoken of three months ago between times spent planning the siege on the Mountain. You swallow thickly again and nod, barely croaking out, "perhaps." Abby takes a deep breath and glances back to Arkadia, where the two of you make out the familiar blonde tresses of Clarke as she follows her friend Raven into the giant metal contraption. Your fingers clench and unclench with the selfish urge to follow her, but Abby's voice interrupts you once more.

"Clarke told me about what you did in Polis," Clarke's mother says quietly, "about you risking everything to save her."

"Clarke exaggerates," you reply, though the words do light a fire in your heart. "I did what I had to in order to save her people. She backed me."

"Something tells me that you're about to do the same thing tomorrow," Abby murmurs as she looks to you with a knowing expression. You are startled by her statement, but she only offers a measly smile as she tells you, "I am a mother first, then a doctor. I saw the way you were looking at Indra, you know."

"Does Clarke know?" You ask in a quiet mumble, relaxing your tense shoulders. Abby shakes her head.

"Should she?" Abby raises her brows when she poses the question. You sigh and rub your aching temple.

"She'll only hurt herself trying to fix something that cannot be changed," you mutter, grateful for the doctor's solidarity. Abby snorts and nods, laughing dryly as she leads you back towards Arkadia. She has her arms crossed over her chest and a calm smile plastered to her cracked lips.

"Clarke is a fixer. She takes everything she does to heart," Abby explains, her voice taking on a sadder tone. "When her father died, she blamed her best friend and then me, but I know that she blames herself the most. Every life she couldn't save became her ball and chain. She carries around burdens three times her size and bears them so others do not have to. I thought that I saved my little girl, but really I sent her down here to die. When I finally fell with the others, I realized just how much she'd changed. She'd taken a life instead of losing them. She hardened and she grew up. She… she became a leader."

"Clarke was always a leader," you reply tersely, unsure of why you're bothering a conversation with this woman, "but you did not trust her to become one. You held her back from her potential. You wanted to see the world through a black-and-white dichotomy, where as your daughter saw things in a spectrum. When TonDC was shot by a missile, you told your daughter that I was the bad guy. You called us all savages when we were just doing what we had to in order to survive. You saw things as life or death, justice or revenge, love or hate. There was nothing between those lines. That is why your leadership crumpled so easily. Your people were scared, but you only ever saw the world as having two halves and nothing more."

Abby is quiet as you approach the gates. You can feel her mulling your words over, digesting them and feeding them into her veins. And you see, in the dim light of the moon, that she processes them and listens to the truth behind every word. You would smile, but you are too tired to even move. Your heart is worn down and beaten from fighting the same damned fight over and over again. You never wanted to be the Commander, never wanted to be standing here and negotiating for the peace of thirteen people when you can't even find peace in your own damned mind. You have no strength left to fight.

But for Clarke, you'll do anything.

"Clarke loves you, Abby. She draws the line with your life," you tell her quietly, silently mourning your own mother. You can almost see her there, staring at you with her identical green eyes as she haunts you. Shaking away the ghostly shiver that tingles down your spine, you turn back to a misty-eyed Abby and quietly murmur, "when TonDC was burning, she only went back to save you. Clarke could sacrifice anything and anyone else but you." 

"And you?" Abby asks with an airy tone. "Where do you draw the line?"

You wait a moment, unsure if you should keep the truth from the mother of the girl you love. But then, as the question sinks deeper, you know that you are not a liar. A failure and a murderer, but not a liar. You glance up at Abby and smile sadly, flimsily as you breathe out, "Clarke."

"Do you love her?" Abby asks, her voice serious. Tears burn at your eyes as you nod and hang your head. You wish you weren't so weak, so besotted to the point that you can't think of anything, any life, without Clarke in it. You know that if you were to lose her again, you wouldn't be able to exist.

"She loves you, too." Abby's words snap your head upwards and you go to scowl at her when she continues to say, "she won't tell you because she's not ready, but she loves you. Whatever you did in Polis, she saw it. I know that you want to be this big bad Commander that doesn't show her emotions for the sake of being strong, but right now I think you need to know about - and to _feel_ \- Clarke's love for you. It's there and it's bigger than her love for me." 

"And how do you expect me to believe that you speak true?" You growl, the tears burning in your eyes again. The very thought of Clarke even having an inkling of feeling towards you makes your skin set itself on fire. You clench your fists and curl your nails into your palms, ignoring the blistering sting.

"Clarke was willing to go to war with her own people for you," Abby muses, letting out a deep sigh. "She loves you, Lexa. Trust me."

"She shouldn't," you say bitterly, casting your glance away. "Everything and everyone I love dies. She would not be safe."

"Then why do you pursue her?" Abby asks, startling you again. "Why go through all the trouble to save her if you do not want her near?"

"I need her safe," you reply with a terse croak, "even if safe means miles away from me. My love is poison. I turned her into what she's become today. I never wanted to hurt her on the Mountain, nor did I ever intend for her to think in blood before thinking with her head. Her actions against the Ice Queen proved how fruitless my attempts at mentoring her had been. My own mentor had a similar style and I figured… I thought that I could… that maybe  _I_ …"

"Lexa," Abby says your name so quietly and reverently you almost miss it, "Clarke made her own choices. They were not of your doing."

"But _I_ left her there!" You snarl in her face, the tears so close to breaking your walls and sliding down. "Because of _me_ , she is haunted. Because of _me_ , all of those people, my mother and father and brother, are dead! Everything I do, I do it to protect my people but in their stead, I sacrifice those I love." Your voice cracks as you let it out to the woman who'd, only days ago, despised the very thought of you. You pinch the bridge of your nose and swallow your tears.

You cannot be weak.

You cannot afford to grieve.

You are not human.

You are the _Commander_.

"I am alone," you whisper as you remove your hand, your gaze still glued to the ground, "but that is better than another burden, another death."

"You won't lose Clarke," Abby says as she reaches out and touches your shoulder. The gesture is so maternal it nearly breaks you because you can't _remember_ the last time you'd even been touched in such a gentle and soft manner. Abby's gaze is sympathetic and mournful, but you do not respond. Abby sighs and squeezes your skin lightly as she bows her head, glancing at the ground with a distant, almost nostalgic look.

"Clarke is strong. Perhaps stronger than anyone else in Arkadia. She is strong…," Abby trails off before glancing up, "she is strong because of _you_."

"I am weak," you scoff, shaking away the idea of Clarke learning anything useful from you. "I can't fight the war that my people want."

"But you'll take their pain," Abby finishes with a soft sigh. "Is that not strength, Lexa? Risky and daring, yes, but is it not strength?"

You do not answer. You do not tell her how it feels so lightening to know that someone sees your motives and decisions for what they are. You don't let her know how grateful you are to have heard her counsel, despite the bad blood between the two of you. You don't utter a word about how, in this moment, she has given you more advice than any of your war chiefs combined. You do not speak a word of how your heartstrings untangle and breathe.

It seems silly, but you missed the feeling of someone having faith in you because they _want_ to, not because they must.

"You are selfless and kind. Forgiving and merciful. I don't know you, and there are parts of me that still don't trust you, but if you're willing to drop everything so you can place my daughter's needs above your own, then I know that you're also a fool," Abby says with a light chuckle. You frown and go to scold her when she shakes her head and continues to say, "a fool that is _in love_ with my daughter. While I appreciate you doing everything under the sun for Clarke, there are some things that you cannot do. You cannot burden yourself with every little mistake. You cannot blame yourself for the deaths of these people because you ordered them here in order to protect us, just like you can't blame yourself for the decision Clarke made at Mount Weather. You are not her keeper, Lexa. You think Clarke as stubborn, but you are just like her. You wish to fix everything so that she may be happy, even at the cost of your own happiness. You would give up your last breath if it meant she slept through a single night without a nightmare. You would die if it meant she smiled without feeling the urge to cry. You value her life, your _people's_ lives, above yours. You may be the Commander, but you are a girl, too."

"You cannot possibly understand," you fight with her, though your voice croaks and cracks with the words, "my people-"

"I know," Abby says with a defeated sigh, "but can I ask you one thing… for Clarke?" You furrow your brow hesitantly, but then you nod.

"Don't die for her tomorrow," she pleads as she places her hand in your palm, "but _live_ for her instead. Clarke needs you just as much as you need her, Commander. I know that I can't stop you and that you probably have no other choice, but if you do, please, I beg of you, do not die for Clarke."

"I cannot guarantee that," you tell her sadly, looking down to your clasped hands. "My body decides whether my spirit passes or not." Abby visibly tenses, but she doesn't fight you. She goes to pull away from you when you give her hand a small squeeze, ignoring how pleasantly comforting it feels.

"But I will try," you tell her as you look up, "for Clarke. For… _me_."

A smile ghosts Abby's lips as she suddenly extends her arms and pulls your body into hers. You are shocked for a moment, because you can't remember the last time someone had held you. Your breath gets caught and tangled in your lungs, and for a moment you genuinely forget how to exist. Abby's arms loop around your shoulders and her palms press lightly against the top of your back. Her fingers are long and strong as they stroke down the bumps in your spine and damn you if you miss the feeling of your own mother. Damn you if you want to fall away into this embrace forever.

And then, the first tear falls from your eyes.

You try to mask it, but your walls have broken. You're lucky that since it's the dead of night no one can see you or this emotional moment. Abby hums something in your ear as you begin to sob in her arms. She strokes your hair and pulls you close, so close that you're unsure how to breathe. And then Abby is there again, maternal and strong as she rubs circles over the back of your ribs, easing out gentle breaths with her soft voice talking you through it. She is murmuring condolences and gratitudes at the same time, and you feel your heart slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

"You deserve happiness too," Abby says after sometime, "you deserve so much more than just death, Lexa."

For the first time in your life, you allow yourself to believe it.

And so you decide tomorrow you will be strong again.

 

* * *

_who will love me in the winter_

_(who will love me when it's cold)_

* * *

 

You're laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling when there's a soft knock against your door.

You frown, wondering who it could be at this late hour. Rising slowly, you pad over to the door before swinging it open. You stifle the gasp as you gaze to a mournful and downcast looking Lexa standing before. You're shot back in time to when she'd come to your room after her fight to thank you. This time, however, Lexa's eyes are not peaceful or exposed. She stands before you, her glazed and solemn expression teetering on near terrified.

"What happened?" You ask with a soft breath. Lexa doesn't speak for a few moments, but then she sighs.

"I have spoken with Indra," she murmurs quietly, "a decision has been made."

"And?" You ask, swallowing the nerves that churn in your throat. "What's going to happen to us?"

" _Skaïkru_ is safe," she says, nodding her head back up as she clenches her jaw, "your people will not be harmed, Clarke."

"What about Pike and Bellamy?" You whisper their names. You personally couldn't care much for the former man, but Bellamy is like your brother. He'd risked everything to make sure that your attack on the Mountain would succeed. Lexa must see the flicker of worry in your gaze because she bows her head again, almost with an indescribable amount of remorse and disgust. You know that this decision must not have come easily. As much as you love Bellamy, you will not let that love blind you from the truth. What he did was a crime that is unforgivable, even by death itself. You brace yourself for the worst.

"Pike will be put on the tree to face the pain of three hundred deaths," she says with a low voice, "Bellamy and your other friends who'd been involved will be banished to the Dead Lands until I see it fit that their punishment has been well served. I cannot guarantee their safety or survival, however."

"You're not going to war?" You question, dumbfounded that her generals didn't want to retaliate. Lexa flinches, and something dark passes over her gaze. She bites her lip and looks up at you with a tired shake of her head. You don't know whether to thank her or interrogate her further.

"The war chiefs and I have come to a suitable negotiation," she replies tersely, fighting the crack from tearing down her voice, "in the morning, the ritual will begin and justice will be served to those accused of this murderous crime. I… I just… I needed to tell you… _Clarke_ ," your name falters on her lips.

"Lexa?" You whisper her name as she trails off, brows knitted together with an unexplainable emotion. She shakes her head and sighs.

"I spent my entire life steeped in war," she tells you, fiddling with her fingers to keep herself distracted from her feelings. "I formed this coalition with the hopes of preventing more death at my hands. Yet, since your landing, I have lost almost two thousand of my people in five months. More since I took command. My people would follow me anywhere, but I do not want that. I want their children to run freely and our villages to be safe. I want peace."

"But a war in this case is justified," you murmur as you place your hand on your shoulder, "and I know you want to keep me safe-"

"This isn't about you!" Lexa hisses like you'd struck her. "It's not about _you_ , Clarke. It's about how I failed our people again."

"Lexa, what are you talking about? You saved your people from the Mountain! You challenged the Ice Queen and you won. What happened here isn't something that you could've of predicted. It's not your fault," you urge her, your voice cracking as you reach for her hand and pull her inside the room. You close the door behind her and tug her into your arms, trying to ignore the way your heart leaps up into your throat when her body sags defeatedly.

"You are the best leader they could've ever hope to have," you whisper into her ear, your hands stroking down her back. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

"Clarke," she breathes your name into the nape of your neck, "do you forgive me?"

"What?" You ask, struck by the feather-light tone of her voice and the sheer vulnerability in her question. Lexa sighs, her body slumping harder against yours. As your arms wind tighter around her shoulders, you wonder how long it's been since someone has held her like this. You think that perhaps Costia or Anya had been the last. So you grip her tightly, silently assuring her that you will be her anchor in this storm. That you will keep her tethered to the ground should she ever feel like floating away.

"I know I do not have the right to ask for your forgiveness, but do you think that there will be a time in which the decision I made for my people will be pardoned? Will there be a time in which you and I can be in the same room and you do not regard me with obvious disdain? Will you ever forgive me?" Lexa asks, her words slightly shaky with trepidation. It's as if she's bracing herself for yet another cold rejection now. You remember what you'd told Bellamy after you'd found the bunker five months ago, about how you'd both sat there against that tree, haunted by your own demons and in need of reconciliation.

_If you what you need is forgiveness, then I'll give it to you._

"One day," you tell her with a soft nod, "one day I will forgive you, Lexa. The pain is still there right now and it's still raw. But perhaps one day…"

Lexa does not speak, but you feel her jaw clenching against your neck. And then, there is the slightest drop of moisture upon your skin and your breath hitches when you realize that she is crying. Her body quivers as you hold her tighter, wishing to grant her this ounce of peace. Something tells you that in the morning, there will be something awaiting the both of you, something that neither of you will be able to walk away from. You hear her murmur something in _Trigedasleng_ , something akin to an apology, before she removes herself from you, her back turned and face pointed towards the door.

"Good night, Ambassador. Sleep well," she murmurs over her shoulder, reaching for the door. Before you can stop her, she opens it and exits without so much as a look over her shoulder like the last time. You're left standing in the middle of the room on your own, unsure of what had just happened.

When you go back to sleep, the dreaded pit in the base of your stomach does not ease.

**|/\|**

You are woken to the sounds of horns in the morning, signalling that the trial is about to begin.

You burst through the halls to see Raven, Kane, and your mother already lined up at the front gates next to Octavia and Lincoln. You search around for Lexa, but she doesn't seem to be in the camp. The group of you walk past the gates to the base of the hill where Indra's tent had been set up. The woman in question is standing there with a few of Lexa's other generals from the previous night. Their faces are all stoic and calm as they peer out into the crowd forming at the base of the small hill. You remember a time three months ago when it'd been Lexa's tent sitting there, waiting for your answer.

"People of the Sky and the Ground," Indra bellows out, holding out her fist to quell the murmuring of the people crowded in front of her. "Today we are gathered to witness the justice served to the three hundred men and women who sacrificed their lives to keep peace between our clans." A few boos from the Grounder army makes Indra glare in their direction, instantly silencing them. Your gut flips with unease as her stern gaze falls to yours.

"Bring out the accused!" Indra hollers, causing the Grounders to stamp their feet and cheer. You look behind her to where Lexa is leading Pike, dressed in her ceremonial light-armour, pauldron, and sash. Her warpaint is dark and menacing as she leads the Chancellor to the tree where he will be put to death. Bellamy, Harper, Monroe, Hannah, and a few of the others that had plotted in the assassination of the three hundred Grounders follow behind nervously. From across the small valley, Bellamy's eyes meet your own. You can see the fear and guilt in his expression, but you do not offer him forgiveness.

Not yet.

(Maybe not ever, you think as you remember Lexa falling to her knees at the sight of her dead mother, maybe never.)

"Heda," Indra says as she turns to Lexa, "what will become of this man?"

"He will feel the pain of three hundred deaths," Lexa says cruelly, twisting her lip up into a snarl as she points to her warriors. " _Teik em set raun ona tri_. He will suffer the death of a thousand cuts for his crimes. Those who followed him will be banished to the Dead Lands, where they will live out the rest of their days in exile until I see fit that their punishment has been served. The dead will be avenged." There's an unease amongst some of the Grounders with this statement, and you see Lexa's eyes flash over to Indra, who looks reluctant. A few of her warriors cry out that this is injustice, that blood isn't met in full.

"And you expect us to just take one life for three hundred?!" One warrior demands, reaching for his sword. "They should _all_ die!"

" _Shof op_!" Lexa snarls at him, holding her hand out. "This Chancellor is not the only one to pay for the lives lost."

"Heda," Indra tries to cut in, but Lexa shakes her head. You frown, but then your mother gasps inaudibly. You look to her, a foreign expression of pain upon her face as she stares at Lexa. You remember your conversation from yesterday and suddenly your heart stops beating. You look up to Lexa, who's eyes are guarded but set with determination. She nods again at her most beloved general, who still looks reluctantly. Pike, from where he stands at the tree, looks just as confused as Bellamy and your other friends. Indra clears her throat and steps forward nodding to the warriors waiting for true justice.

" _Heda Leksa kom Trikru_ ," she bellows out, turning back to face the Commander with blurred vision, "your chiefs have accused you for the murder of three hundred warriors in cold blood and deem you fit for capital punishment. How do you plead to these accusations?" Lexa sets her jaw and swallows thickly.

Your lungs stop working and you can only breathe out one word.

" _No_."

"I sent them here as a peace-keeping force. They were killed under _my_ command. I accept this accusation and plead guilty," Lexa replies steadily, much to the shock of her own warriors. You lurch forward in disbelief, but a strong arm curls around your waist as you cry out in disagreement.

"No!" You scream as those strong arms tug you back. "No, she can't do this! This isn't on her, it's on them! No, let me go!"

"Clarke," your mother whispers sadly into your ear, "Clarke, you can't interfere."

"I won't let her die," you hiss as tears burn in your eyes, but a throat clearing prevents you from speaking further. You look over to see Lincoln staring at you with Octavia by his side. The Grounder looks just as torn up as you, but he keeps his gaze steady as he parts his lips to speak.

"This is the only other option to prevent a war," Lincoln murmurs with a dejected bow of his head, "only Heda can take this pain."

"They'll kill her!" You plead as you look up to wear Indra is staring at Lexa. "I almost lost her once! I can't lose her again. I… I can't…"

"She's doing this because she can take it," Lincoln sighs, "it is our way, Clarke. Justice must be paid. This is the price for peace."

"And what shall be your punishment, Heda?" Indra asks like she's dreading the answer. "What will become of you for this accusation?"

"Three hundred cuts," Lexa announces, holding her head up, "for each life that has been lost."

"And what does _Trikru_ say? Is this acceptable?" Indra asks the warriors and the generals. At first, they're all silent, but then there is a cheer of agreement that forms through the crowd. Lexa's throat bobs, but she refuses to acknowledge any other form of emotion as she nods to her general. Indra looks devastated as two warriors come up and unclip the pauldron and sash from Lexa's shoulder. The Commander sheds her heavy coat and nods to her warriors as they bring her to a tree beside Pike's own. The Chancellor looks completely shocked at the admission, but Lexa pays him no attention.

"We will begin with the culprit behind this decision," Indra says as she walks over to where Pike stands. She glares at him menacingly, whipping out her sword and holding it to his neck as she seethes in his direction. "Do you have any last words before your life is stripped from you, _natrona_?"

"I regret nothing," Pike spits in her face, "I did it for my people."

His death is agonizingly slow, and you're sure that he's dead after the fortieth cut. But they keep on slicing him until Indra's blade plunges straight through his chest. As soon as he is killed, the Grounders cut his ties and place him on a stretcher, where you can only imagine they will later put him upon a pyre. You're still struggling in your mother's arms as you see Indra turn to Lexa, waiting patiently with a calm and even gaze at her general.

"Please," you beg to no one in particular, "please we have to help her. I can't let her do this. I can't let her _die_."

"Clarke," your mother hums desolately as she tries to soothe your trembling cries, "this is the only way. She's strong. She will survive."

"Do you have anything to say, Heda?" Indra asks as she reaches for her knife with shaking hands. Lexa does not waver, but her eyes scan over the grounds. You can see the lingering pain of her choice in her expression, but the sickening realization that this is the only thing she can do to keep an ounce of peace. Her jaw works one, twice, then once more before she takes a deep breath and looks to you. She nods slowly, and you remember last night.

_Will you ever forgive me?_

"I take responsibility," Lexa tells her general with a quiet sigh, "and after this, no war will become _Skaïkru_ or _Trikru_. From my blood, we start again."

Indra nods and you fight to flee from your mother's grasp again, but your knees are trembling. You watch in horror as Indra lifts her shirt and slices a clean nick to her ribs. The people of Arkadia gasp as soon as they see the thick black blood run down her skin. Your mother's grip loosens in shock and you bolt as soon as you can. Before you can get far, you're thrown to the ground by Lincoln, who hisses in your ear that if you do anything rash, they will kill her. Lexa shakes her head from where she's tied to the tree, pleading with you silently for you to just let her do this so that your people may be free of war.

You hold back another sob as one of her other generals comes up and slices at her arms. The entire time, she keeps her stare impassive and cold. She emits the strength of an immortal god as one by one, her own warriors slice into her like she's nothing but a slab of meat. Her blood starts to pool at her feet, but she doesn't falter under each laceration. Some of her warriors hesitate to cut her while others are ever so eager to take a stab at her bronzed skin. The entire time, her eyes do not leave yours, as if she is seeking your strength. You repress your cries and hold her stare, because if this is the only way you can give her support, you will watch. The scores her generals are making are thankfully not deep, but you know that even for the Commander, this has to hurt. Yet, as you watch more of her blood paint the grounds black, there's only one question that repeats in your mind like a broken record.

How many times must she bleed for _you_?

 

* * *

_what I want is bread_

_(all I have are stones)_

* * *

  

You lose sensation in your arms after the one hundred and fiftieth cut.

Your eyes are half-lidded and barely open, your lungs wheezing to get the air out. Your warriors have not spared a single inch of your skin thus far, and for that you cannot help but be the slightest bit terrified at how tradition has warped your society to be so driven on revenge and violence. You do not personally care for the idea of blood having blood, for you think that it's just an endless cycle of unjustified hatred. Yet, as your people come weeping, both for you and those they've lost in this massacre, you know that this is the only sort of grievance that they will allow themselves to have. Perhaps, should you live to see the day, you will change this. Maybe you will find a way to convey the message of peace and understanding and forgiveness to your people.

 _One day,_ Clarke's voice echoes in your mind.

You stare back at her as the two hundredth cut. You've lost sight of her because of all the black streaming into your vision, but you do refuse to die. You made yourself a promise to keep Clarke safe, and if you do not survive, you will fail her, too. Your tongue is thick and heavy, bloody, in your mouth as the next cut comes to your chin and slides down to your jaw. Your head leans forward in the slightest bit, but you refuse to keel on the tree. You could tell Indra to stop, but you will not dishonour those you've lost. You will not let your parents and brother down again. This is your apology. Your prayer.

This is your absolution.

By the time you only have fifty cuts left, you can barely breathe. You can feel the ghost of hands on your shoulders and a voice in your ear, begging you to call this off. At this point, your senses are so muddled that you can't tell if it's Indra or someone else speaking the words to you. But you shake your head as you spit out with a clot of blood. You will see through every cut until the trial is over. You think of Aden and your Nightbloods. If this is what it takes for them to lead in times of harmony, you will sacrifice your entire soul for them. You smile as best as you can with your cracked lips at the thought of Aden.

He might be a better Commander than you.

 _One day_ , Clarke says again, _one day, one day, one day…_

A blade strikes down on your wrist and you bite back the hiss that crawls up your throat. A faint, shaky apology comes from someone's lips and you're not sure which one of your warriors it belongs to. A slight whimper parts their lips and you know that it must be a _seken_. You clench your jaw when you remember how many warriors you'd had to cut into when you'd been a _seken_ , and even more when you'd passed your Conclave and were awarded the sash. You hated the feeling of the blood coating your fingers, or the slight whisper of agony that would come from the accused. You never saw it as justice.

"One more, Heda," Indra's raspy voice sounds in your ear, muddled and cloudy, "then you will be cut down." You can barely nod.

" _Sha_ ," you garble as you cough out another wad of blood, " _mochof_ , Indra."

She does not reply.

You brace yourself for the final cut. You try to open your eyes, but your eyelids are caked in blood. You manage to crack one of them open, only to see familiar golden tresses and starry blue eyes in your wake. Your brows knit together in confusion and you go to protest when suddenly hands are cupping your bloodied cheeks and a face is pressed into the nape of your slashed neck. You smell her familiar scent before you feel her, and your stomach flips.

"Clarke," you breathe out as her hand weaves through your bloodied locks, "Clarke… w-what are you d-doing?"

"Ssh," she whispers into your skin, "you're okay, Lexa. I've got you, you're okay, okay?"

"They will kill you," you choke out as you try to throw her off, "please, Clarke. You cannot do this."

"I am just as guilty as you," she murmurs as her hand ghosts over your chest, "Indra… she said… _the_ _ambassadors_ …"

 _No_ , you think as you chastise yourself. You forgot to tell her that your generals are not the only ones that must cut you.

Nothing you can do can protect her from death. 

(You are a _failure_.)

"You do not have to do this," you breathe out airily, "I-I… I should t-talk to Indra."

"I accept the pain," Clarke whispers as she chokes down a sob, "I did this to you."

"Never," you whisper as you feel the cool press of her blade above your heart. " _Ai hod yu in, Klark._ "

She pauses, and you're unsure of she can understand what you've said. For a moment, you plead for her to end your fight. You are tired, so very tired from waking up alone, from fighting wars that could've been prevented, from losing those you love, wished to love, and those who'd once loved you.

You are just so _tired_.

"I forgive you," Clarke whispers as she gently slides the blade into your skin with a harsh sob, "I'm sorry, Lexa. I'm sorry I waited but I _forgive_ you."

 _One day_ , her voice repeats in a soft echo as you feel your head grow heavy, _today_.

And then, nothing.

 

* * *

_it's too late_

_(for me to cry)_

* * *

 

"Cut her down!" You order between hiccuped cries as you throw your knife to the grass with disgust. "It's done. Blood has answered blood."

The Grounders don't even hesitate as they rush forward to cradle their unconscious and bloody Heda to the ground. You go to call for help, but before you can even open your mouth, your mother and Jackson have a stretcher waiting for you. Abby's eyes meet yours, glassy and sad as she pushes through a few of the warriors to kneel at Lexa's side. There's so much blood that you can barely see the girl that had poured her everything out for you. Another heartbreaking cry leaves your lips as you crumble to your knees in horror. For a moment, you remember Finn and his final words as you'd ended his life.

You don't know if you can live with yourself if you've done the same to Lexa.

(How many more people must die for you, Clarke?)

"Mom?" You ask with a gulp. You're more than just nervous, you're also terrified. "Mom, is she-"

"I've got a faint pulse," she says as she presses her two fingers to Lexa's slick neck. Indra looks down to her Commander with worry and disdain in her eyes as you help load the younger girl onto the stretcher. The Grounders work with you to secure her in place, with Nyko and Lincoln strapping down her feet and your mother and Jackson securing her slashed arms. You wipe at your face as you go to follow them, but Indra's hand across your chest stops you.

"I can't leave her," you protest angrily, more tears streaking down your cheeks, "not while she's-"

"You're a leader first," Indra says through gritted teeth, and you can see that she's trying not to let her own emotions show. She nods to where Bellamy and the others are standing with wide and shocked eyes, murmuring amongst themselves about the selfless Grounder Commander. You instantly understand what Indra wants and you nod, the anger of having seen Lexa been cut to shreds fuelling you as you march over to your ex-friends.

"Princess," Bellamy starts to say as his voice cracks, "I didn't-"

"But you did," you seethe as you clench your jaw, "and you're fucking lucky that it wasn't you up there. To me, you're dead. Lexa is generous enough to fucking banish you for your crimes, where as me? I would've fucking tied you up and killed you like they did to Pike. You murdered her family."

"I know," Bellamy sobs, bowing his head in shame, "I know and I'm sorry."

"I don't forgive you," you reply with a cold growl, "and I may never will. You are banished. You are not to return to this camp or trespass on any of the Coalition's grounds either. You will be escorted to the Dead Lands by Lexa's guards and then you are on your own. Whatever happens after that is up to the Commander, not me. Quite frankly, I think you should all be left for dead, but you're lucky that she's selfless enough to see through your mistake."

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I mean it," he begs direly, trying to control his cries, "I was just trying to do what was right for our people."

"I never want to see you again," you tell him with a final warning, "is that clear?"

Bellamy doesn't bother apologizing again. Instead, he nods and looks away mournfully. You glance over to where Harper and Monroe are looking equally as guilty and sad, but you don't pay them attention. You order to the guards to take them away, to which they gleefully accept your command. You wait until they are marched into the forest and out of sight before you turn and run back to Arkadia to find Lexa. Indra doesn't bother to stop you this time. She only follows with a slight wobble in her step as you trek through the metal halls and towards the medical bay. A group of Grounders and Sky People are already crowded around the doors, eager to find out the situation of the injured Commander, but you shove through them with the help of Indra.

"Clarke!" Your mother gasps when you step into the room. "Clarke, I need your hands!"

You forget that the body on the bed is Lexa's for a moment as you shove forward. You quickly rinse your hands in alcohol and put on a pair of latex gloves. You tell Indra to order the crowd away and she obliges, but not without another pained glance at her downed Commander. You jump in next Jackson and Nyko, waiting for your mother's order. Your stomach turns at the sight of the multitude of cuts covering Lexa's bare body. You know that some of them are shallow, but the ones near her hands and legs are deeper, scored into her skin by some of her more doubtful and angered warriors. You fight the bile that rises in your throat when you catch a particularly nasty cut above her elbow, one that allows the white of her bone to poke through the flesh.

"Stitch up the deeper ones," Abby commands slowly, "make sure they're bandaged and sealed. I don't have any of her blood for a transfusion."

"She's a Nightblood," you answer back, fully aware that your mother has no idea about Lexa's genetic mutation, "the only transfusion she can get is from her kids, but they're back in Polis." Abby doesn't question you, despite the confused and perplexed look on her face, and instead she sighs at Lexa.

"Then we do what we can to ensure she does not lose anymore," she mutters as she sets to work cleaning up Lexa's face. You nod in agreement and grab the forceps, thread, and needle from one of the trays beside Jackson. Your mother looks up with a grimace. "I won't lie, Clarke. This is bad."

"I need her to live," you growl as you feel the tears creeping back up on you, "not just for our people, but for me, too. _I_ need her, Mom."

Abby glances over to a distraught-looking Jackson, but she nods regardless. The four of you - Nyko, Abby, Jackson, and yourself - work through countless hours patching together each and every cut on the Commander's frame. As you move along her skin, you find scars that make your stomach twist. There are an intricate set of tattoos upon her chest, ones that when (because you won't dare to think of an _if_ right now) the Commander wakes, you yearn to learn more about. There is a twisted scar that runs along her ribs, like someone had once tried to cut her in half. You remember her body on the tree, and you think to yourself, perhaps that they already have. You grit your teeth and steady your hands, patching up the final cut before leaning back.

"Now what?" You ask shakily as you peel off the gloves. Abby sighs and looks to the girl laying on the bed, covered in blackened gauze. You throw your gloves in the trash before returning to sit at Lexa's side, your hand instinctively reaching out for the palm that had been previous injured two days ago.

"We wait for her to wake up," Abby says as she fits an oxygen mask over Lexa's mouth. "She's on her own now, Clarke."

"No," you disagree as you pull Lexa's hand into your lap, "I'm not leaving her side. Not this time. I won't let her be alone anymore."

Jackson and Nyko take their leave, sensing a strange tension in the air as you inch closer to Lexa's motionless side. She looks so young, much like she'd looked a few nights ago. Your heart leaps up into your chest as you remember how you'd turned her down. It never occurred to you how lonely she must've been, that perhaps she had come to seek your comforting presence because there is not a single other person she can speak to. You wonder how she must've broken on the inside when you'd told her that you backed her only because she is the Commander and only the Commander can protect her people. You thanked her for them and not because you care about Lexa the person. 

But, as you look at her now, you can't deny that Lexa the person is someone you very much care about.

"She loves you," Abby whispers as she takes a seat on the other end of the bed, "Lexa loves you a lot, Clarke."

"I know," you whisper as you ghost your thumb over the back of Lexa's bandaged palm, "but I wish that she didn't. I don't deserve her love."

"You love her too," Abby murmurs wistfully as she glances over at you. Your eyes well with tears as you nod, choking on another sob.

"I know," you parrot your words back to her. Abby takes a breath and stares at you pensively.

"Do you wish _you_ didn't?" She asks, almost fearful of your answer. You look down at Lexa, a woman who embodies strength in the most beautiful of corporeal forms and you find yourself pondering the question that only weeks ago, you'd have been able to give a definite answer to. Your fingers continue to stroke down the thick wads of gauze on the back of her hand, but then you pause and sigh, lifting her palm so you can press a kiss to her fingers.

"Never," you reply with a soft whisper, "she means everything to me, Mom. I… I can't live without her. I need her."

Abby doesn't speak, but she offers you a small nod before she stands. She walks over to you and squeezes your shoulder before she leaves you alone with a sleeping Lexa. You don't follow her because your eyes are glued on Lexa and Lexa alone. You lightly grip her palm and kiss the back of her hand again, allowing a few tears to cascade down your cheeks as you stare down at her with a newfound determination and adoration in your gaze.

"Did you hear that, Lexa?" You whisper to her sleeping form. "You need to wake up and get better because I need _you_."

**|/\|**

You awake to the sound of muffled groaning.

You snap your head up to see Lexa groggily stirring awake. You nearly cry out in joy when mossy green eyes meet your own stare. You watch as the breath clouds her oxygen mask and she blinks slowly. Your mother had administered the pain medication a few hours ago, but there's no doubt by the glazed look in her eyes that she's still caught up on the concoction. Her mouth parts and she frowns when she feels the mask upon her chin and jaw. She goes to reach for it, but when she looks to her arm, she mumbles something in _Trigedasleng_. You giggle a little at her confusion but then you allow yourself to help her when she gives you the most heartbreaking of pouts. You shake your head and reach upwards to gently pull of her mask, allowing her breathe properly.

"Good morning," you tell her warmly as you go back to sitting at her side. She swallows and cocks her head with another curl of her lips. You squeeze her hand again and she follows the motion with her eyes, and you stifle the laughter that burbles in the back of your throat when you see her gasp at the sight.

"You have my hand," she grumbles thickly, "that is my sword hand. I need it. For my sword."

"What about your other hand?" You ask with a raised brow. Lexa frowns again, looking at her other bandaged palm.

"That is _also_ my sword hand," she mutters to herself, "I have two swords and two hands. I use both. For swords."

"Well, you won't be needing your sword anytime soon." Lexa perks at your words, the haze of the drugs slowly lifting from her green eyes. She swallows thickly again, looking up at you with a pleading gaze. Your heart nearly melts at the vulnerable stare as you nod again, leaning forward to kiss her bandaged forehead. She gasps at the sensation of your lips upon her skin. You nearly break apart at the sound and you know it's been so long for her.

"Our people are safe?" Lexa says through a garbled voice. You nod and remove your lips so you can smile down at her. "You are sure?"

"Positive," you whisper as you continue to drag your thumb over the back of her hand, "Indra is speaking with Kane as we speak."

"Good," Lexa murmurs as she blinks down fatigue. Her eyelids droop from the medication and you know that she'll be out of it soon. You are about to stand and let her rest when she faintly squeezes your hand back. You look down at the bandaged arm and then back up at her peering, glazed eyes.

"You forgave me?" She rasps the question with a soft tremble to her voice. "Before you cut me, you forgave me?"

"Yes," you say without hesitation as you fight back the tears when Lexa's breath hitches. "I forgave you, Lexa."

"Did… did you mean it?" She asks hesitantly, her face scrunching up as if to prepare for rejection. You shake your head and offer a smile, knowing that it must be an awful one from the quivering of your lips and the moisture gathering upon your slick cheeks. Lexa looks distraught, but you sigh gently.

"I love you," you murmur the words as you close your eyes, "I was so scared, Lexa. If you were going to die… I… I needed you to know."

Lexa seems to understand what you mean to say when you open your eyes again. She has tears in her own eyes, and you know that it's not just because of the medication. You feel her fingers loop around yours as she shuffles a bit on the bed. You notice how she winces when she tries to make room for you. At first, you want to protest because she was cut three hundred times and she needs to rest, but you know that after nearly watching her die twice in the span of three days, nothing means more than being close to her. You rise and lay yourself beside her, your hands still clasped tightly to hers.

"It's dangerous…," Lexa wheezes as she stares into your eyes, "it is dangerous to love a Commander, Clarke."

"I'm the Commander of Death aren't I?" You joke lightly as you squeeze her hand. "I think I can handle a measly little Commander."

"I am not little," Lexa grumbles thickly, her eyes blinking slower now as she fights to stay awake. "I am the Heda of Thirteen Clans."

"And the first Heda to bring about a real peace for her people," you muse proudly as you watch Lexa's eyes glisten with tears. You kiss her forehead again and reach around so you may curl her into your body. It's only as she slides in beside you that you realize how small she is. You've always seen her to be lithe, but never small. Never vulnerable or exposed. Yet, as her frail and slender fingers lock with yours and her pale cheeks rest upon your cheeks, you know that perhaps the mighty Commander is a little broken and frayed at the edges, too. That underneath that mask, she is still just a young girl.

Lexa's breath rattles with the exertion of moving, and you know that the extent of the cuts will have lasting damage. Some nerves, as your mother had gravely told you, have severed and ruptured from the depth of some of the cuts. You know that Lexa may not be able to fight properly again, let alone wield a sword or grip her dagger. Walking will be a challenge in the beginning, not to mention her proprioception and motor control. Her muscles might atrophy over time and perhaps one day, she could even lose sight in one or both of her eyes. Her recovery will be an uphill battle, but she is a warrior first.

If she can fight through death, she can fight through anything.

"Anya would be proud of you," you say as she slides in close to you, "Costia and Gustus, as well."

"I miss them," Lexa murmurs the quietest of admissions against your collarbone. "I miss my parents and my brother, too."

"They will not be forgotten," you whisper as you peck her hair again, "you honour them, Lexa. You honour them all."

"I wished to die on that hill," Lexa admits in a cracked voice, a tear sliding down her cheek to land in your neck. She draws a pained, sharp breath when she continues to say, "I was so tired of fighting, of losing so many that once called me theirs. I was waiting for that kiss of death, for my spirit to ascend."

"But you didn't," you say with a nervous hitch of your breath. "Do you still wish to die?"

"It is not about wishing," Lexa says, almost amused. "I think that I do not know _how_ to die."

You're a little taken aback by her answer. It's not like death is something that she can tangibly hold, but it is something that she's grown up accustomed to understanding. You figure that the concept of mortality is something that she never got to appreciate as a child, or even as an adult, because being the Heda meant being a vessel, a body to lead people and nothing more. That perhaps the most comforting thought Lexa ever had was that one day, when her spirit was released, she'd be free to be the girl that she came to knew and fall in love with; that she could be free from her forced duties and she could love.

"Well," you say as you tilt her chin upwards and gaze down at her lips fleetingly, "I for one am glad you do not know how to die, Lexa."

Lexa is pensive and quiet for a few moments before she searches your eyes hesitantly. You gulp and nod as she leans up, connecting your lips in the chastest of kisses. Your eyes flutter shut and all of the sudden every single reason, every single damned minuscule feeling that ever caused you fall head over heels for the woman beside you ignites your skin. You reach for her hand again and squeeze, kissing her deeper as you sense the longing and desperation in each swipe of her tongue. She holds you like you are seconds away from drifting away, but you assure her with another faint clutch to her hand that you are here to stay this time - for as long as you breathe - and that you forgive her and _love_ her despite the battlefield between you.

When Lexa pulls away, breathless and lovestruck, all she can faintly whisper is, " _so am I_."

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Em sei wamplei - it signifies death  
> Biyo moba - forgive me  
> Yu gonplei ste odon ai nomon - your fight is over, my mother  
> Jus drein, jus daun - blood must have blood  
> Kru - people  
> Nontu/Bro/Sis/Yongon - Father/Brother/Sister/Child  
> Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim - may we meet again  
> Branwada - idiot/fool  
> Teik em set raun ona tri - put him on the tree  
> Shof op - silence/be quiet  
> Sha - yes  
> Mochof - thank you  
> Ai hod yu in - I love you
> 
> Okay I am so sorry this was so agonizingly long. Also, I know that this definitely won't happen in Episode 5, no matter how much I crave more martyr!Lexa (I swear I'm not a sadist) and badass group leader!Clarke. Also, Pike needs to die and Bellamy can gtfo in my opinion. Anyways I'm gonna sleep now and pretend like I have a semi-normal life and I totally wasn't just up all night writing this piece of shit, lol. I'm debating maybe writing a sequel to this piece, but only if you guys want one/think it needs more closure idk.
> 
> Again, leave a comment if you can!! I am still getting back to the ones from my main Clexa story and the other two side ones I posted a few days ago. You guys are all so sweet and awesome and honestly, I cannot express how grateful I am for all the kind and sweet things you had to say about that last one! :)
> 
> Find my sleep-deprived, Clexa-Trash ass on tumblr at @a-class-act-president!
> 
> Cheers! :)


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